Happy Birthday: A Novel

by Danielle Steel

  “Sometimes,” he confessed sheepishly. “I go to a pancake house when I want that, not a top-notch restaurant. When I go out to dinner, I want a great meal,” he said, savoring the last of the lobster. It had been absolutely perfect as far as he was concerned, four star, and would have won a flawless review from him if he’d been writing about it, which he wasn’t.

  “That’s my point,” April insisted. “You can get fantastic pancakes here, or waffles, or mashed potatoes, or mac and cheese. You should try my pancakes sometime,” she recommended seriously, and he laughed at the intense look on her face. She really believed in what she was doing. He hadn’t fully understood that before. Maybe he’d been too drunk. But that had been her fault, she had absolutely buried him in wines that had been too good to resist. He was more careful tonight, he didn’t want to drink too much again and make an ass of himself. He liked her, and her passion for her restaurant.

  “Okay, I’ll come back for pancakes the next time I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You’re welcome anytime. The pancakes are on me.”

  “It was nice of you to invite me here tonight. I figured you hated me after what I wrote about the restaurant.”

  “I did for a while,” she said honestly, “but I got over it.”

  “I’m glad you did. The meal was fantastic tonight.” He was beginning to understand that she was trying to do something for everyone, the more refined palate as well as the simpler one, and even food that children loved. There was a certain merit to her theory, although it had escaped him before. “So why did you ask me here, since I can’t write a review this soon, and you said it wasn’t a date? Burying the hatchet in lobster and white truffle pasta?” he asked with an amused look, and she smiled at him, wondering if their child would look like him, or her, or a combination of both. It was strange to think about that.

  “I have something to tell you that I just figure you should know. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need anything. But I figure you have a right to the information too.” She didn’t beat around the bush. She wanted to let him know. That was all. She was having his baby and he had a right to decide how and if he wanted to deal with it, or not at all, which was fine with her too. She had no expectations of him. “I was on an antibiotic for strep throat when we saw each other in September. I didn’t realize it could do that, but it screwed up the Pill I was on, and to be honest, I got so drunk that night that I forgot to take the Pill. I’m three months pregnant. I’m having a baby in June. I found out four weeks ago, and I decided to keep it. I’m thirty years old, and I don’t want to have an abortion. You don’t have to have anything to do with me or it, if you don’t want to. But I thought you ought to know, and at least give you the choice.” It was as direct and honest as she could be with him, and he looked across the table at her as though he was going into shock. He looked pale. His hair was as dark as hers, he had dark brown eyes, and his face was as white as the tablecloth when he spoke.

  “Are you serious? You’re telling me that now? You invited me here to dinner to tell me that? Are you crazy? You’re having it? You don’t even know me. You don’t know if I’m an ax murderer or a lunatic or a child molester, and you’re having a baby by a guy you slept with once? Why aren’t you having an abortion? Why didn’t you ask me how I felt about that before it was too late to do anything about it?” He looked furious as his eyes blazed at her across the table. For a moment, she was sorry she had told him at all.

  “Because my decision to keep it is none of your business,” she said just as harshly. “It’s my body and my baby, and I’m not asking you for a goddamn thing. You don’t ever have to see me again, if you don’t want to. And frankly, I don’t care either way. You don’t ever have to see the kid. That’s up to you. But if there were a child wandering around who was mine, I’d want to know about it, so I could decide if I wanted to be part of its life or not. That’s the opportunity I’m giving you, no strings attached. You don’t have to support me or the baby, or contribute anything. I can manage by myself, and if not, my parents are willing to help me, which is nice of them. But they thought, and I agree, that I owe you at least the information that you’re having a baby in June. That’s all. The rest is up to you.”

  She glared back at him then, and he fumed silently at her for a minute. He had to admit, she was being decent about it, but he did not want a baby, with her or anyone else. He had been clear about that all his life. And she was screwing up everything for him. Now he had to decide if he wanted to be a father or not. Because like it or not, and without even consulting him about it, she was having his baby, because they had both been stupid enough to get drunk and sleep with each other and her birth control had malfunctioned. How romantic was that? But she didn’t look sentimental about it either. Just honest and practical, and she was trying to be fair to him. But he didn’t like it anyway. He was sorry he had come to dinner and found out about it, and even sorrier that three months before he had slept with her.

  “And who are your parents, that they’re being so noble about this?” She looked startled by the question. It was hard for him to imagine parents of a thirty-year-old woman who were willing to be so supportive of her. He didn’t even know parents like that, and surely not his own, whom he hadn’t seen in ten years and didn’t want to see again.

  “My parents are perfectly nice, normal people,” she answered him directly. “My father is a medieval art professor at Columbia, my stepmother is a speech therapist and a wonderful woman, and my mother is Valerie Wyatt, she talks about home decorating and weddings on TV.” She said it as though she had a job like everyone else as he stared at her.

  “Are you kidding?” he said. “That’s who your mother is? Of course … Wyatt … why didn’t I think of that? For chrissake, your mother is the arbiter of everything that happens in the home, or at a wedding. What do they think of this? Don’t they think you’re crazy to have this baby too? How are you going to manage a restaurant and a kid all on your own?”

  “That’s my problem, not yours. I’m not asking you to show up and change diapers. You can visit it if you want to, but if you don’t, that’s fine too.”

  “What if I want more than that?” he said angrily. He was furious at her now, for what she and fate had done to him. He realized it had happened to her too, but she had decided to keep it. He never would have. And her plan to have it sounded utterly stupid and wrong to him. It wasn’t fair, in his opinion, to bring a child into the world with parents who didn’t know or love each other. But it seemed even worse to her to get rid of it, so she was having it, whether he liked it or wanted to participate, or not. “What if I want to be a father and want joint custody, for instance? I’m not saying I do, and I don’t. But what if I did? Then what would you do, since you’re so independent about it? Would you share the child with me?” She looked stunned by the idea. She hadn’t thought of that possibility at all.

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I guess we’d have to talk about it, and come to some agreement.” She didn’t like the sound of it. She didn’t know him well enough to know if she’d trust a child with him, or a baby, but he had a point. He was one of the baby’s parents too.

  “Well, you’re off the hook on that one. I don’t want children. I never did. My childhood was a nightmare, with alcoholic, abusive parents. My parents hated each other, and me. My brother committed suicide when he was fifteen. And the last thing I want in this world is a wife and children. My own childhood was screwed up enough, I don’t want to fuck up someone else’s. A month before I met you, I broke up with a woman I was in love with. We were together for five years, and she finally put it to me. She wanted to get married and have babies, or find someone else who would. I gave her my blessing, kissed her goodbye, and left her. I don’t want a baby, April, yours or anyone else’s. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else hurting the way I did as a kid. I don’t feel suited to be a parent, but I don’t want to abandon someone either. If I don’t see
this child, or involve myself in its life in some way, it will always feel that I rejected it. It’s not right that you’re doing this to me, or the kid. It’s fine for you to say you’ll manage on your own and your parents will help you. But how are you going to explain the father that walked out on you and him or her? What’s that going to do to a child? Did you ever think of that when you decided to keep it? It may sound cruel to you to have an abortion, but there’s nothing between us, and there never will be. It’s not fair to bring a child into this world with only one parent who wants it, and another one who never did.”

  “What if we loved each other and were married, and you died? Then what, should I kill the child then too because you wouldn’t be around?” She had a point, but he wouldn’t concede it. He was adamant on this subject, and had given up a woman he loved over just these arguments. She had had two abortions for him in five years and refused to have any more. She wanted kids, and he didn’t.

  “That’s different and you know it,” Mike fumed at her, squirming in his seat. It had turned into a miserable evening. The lobster dinner hadn’t been worth it, and he never wanted to see her again. She was always plying him with something, with some ulterior motive and scheme, but as far as he was concerned, this was the worst of all. Feeding him exquisite food in order to tell him about the baby she was having that he didn’t want was far more serious than getting him drunk to get a good review.

  “Mike, lots of people have only one parent. And these days, lots of women have babies without men. They go to sperm banks, they get gay men friends to donate sperm for them so they know who the father is, single gay men and women adopt babies. I’m not saying it’s ideal, but people alone have babies. Sometimes people who even love each other, if one of them dies or disappears. I saw this baby on the sonogram, its heart was beating, it looked like a baby, it’s going to be a baby one day, a person. I didn’t want to have a child either, it’s not in my scheme of things right now, and it won’t be easy for me. And you’re right, I don’t know who the hell you are, or if you’re a decent person. But I’m not going to kill this baby, my baby, our baby, because your parents were shitty to you. I’m sorry as hell about that, and those things shouldn’t happen, but sometimes they do. But now that it’s there and it happened, this baby has a right to live, so I’m giving it that opportunity, even if it’s not convenient for me. I’ll do the best possible job I can. And I have three parents and two sisters who will love it too.

  “If you want to step up to the plate and be its father, terrific. And if you don’t, it’ll be okay too. This was an accident that happened to both of us. I’m trying to make the best of a tough situation, that’s all we can do.” She was being very sensible about it, but he shook his head miserably. He had had the same conversation with his previous girlfriend before her second abortion. He had managed to convince her, but he could see that April had made up her mind. He was screwed, or he felt that way at least.

  “This is an accident that can be fixed, if you’ll be reasonable about it,” Mike said quietly but intensely, still hoping to deter her. “If you want kids, find some guy who wants them too. I’m not that person. I never will be. I don’t want children. I don’t want to be married, to anyone, April, and I don’t want this baby.” She didn’t want him either, but she was still going to have his child, and nothing would convince her otherwise. He could see it in her eyes.

  “I wasn’t looking to have children,” she said clearly. “I’m not after you. I want nothing from you. But I’m going to have this child. Whether you want to be involved or not, or even see it, is up to you. I’ll let you know when the baby is born, and you can decide then.”

  She could see that he was very angry with her, but more than that, he was scared. She had faced him with something he had done everything to avoid until now, even giving up a woman he had truly loved. He told her that she was already seeing someone else, and hoping to get married soon. She was thirty-four years old and felt she didn’t have time to waste if she wanted kids. Mike said he had been willing to let her go rather than do that with her. And now April had just sprung a baby on him that was already in the works. It was just too cruel, as far as he was concerned.

  He stood up finally, still looking furious. “Thanks for dinner,” he said coldly. “I’m not sure it was worth it, given the acute indigestion at the end of the meal. I’ll call you when I figure out what I want to do about this.”

  “There’s no rush,” she said quietly, standing up and facing him. She was beautiful, but he didn’t care about that now. All he could think about was what she had just told him. “The baby’s not due till June. Thanks for coming to dinner. I’m sorry it’s such bad news for you.” He nodded and said nothing, and walked out of the restaurant with his head down, without ever looking back at her. The waiters and sommelier could see that they’d had an argument, and they knew who he was, the critic who had given them the bad review three months before. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be giving her a good one anytime soon.

  Chapter 7

  April told both her parents about her meeting with Mike Steinman the next day. Valerie was sorry to hear about it, and her father was furious. He thought Mike could have done a lot better than that.

  “He doesn’t want kids, Dad,” April said calmly, although she was upset about it too, but there was nothing she could do. “He broke up with a woman he was crazy about rather than have children with her.” She was trying to be reasonable about it, although she had found Mike’s position both harsh and extreme, just like his review. It was apparently who he was. And it was not a trait in him she liked, despite his obvious brains and good looks. He had apparently been severely mistreated as a child. She felt sorry for him, but she thought it was a poor excuse for the way he was behaving now.

  “You didn’t want a child either,” her father reminded her, “but you’re making the best of it. Why can’t he?” He had a point.

  “He doesn’t want to, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

  “I think he’s a total jerk.”

  “He has a right to be upset,” she said quietly. She was being adult about it, or trying to, but she’d shed tears over it the previous night. Mike had been pretty nasty.

  And she was utterly stunned when he walked into the restaurant kitchen the next day after the last lunch customer had left. April was in the kitchen, discussing new wine purchases with Jean-Pierre, the sommelier. He disappeared as soon as Mike walked in. He looked stormy, but calmer than he had on Saturday night when he left. It made the sommelier wonder what was going on between them. This looked more personal than business.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Mike said tersely. He looked like he hadn’t slept in two days, and he hadn’t shaved. He looked utterly tormented and deeply unhappy, but less angry at her.

  “Sure,” she said calmly, and led him upstairs to her office. She pointed to a chair, but he didn’t sit down. Everything in her office was ancient, ugly, battered, and had been secondhand, in order to save money.

  He stood looking at April intently. “Look, I’m sorry I got so upset the other night, and was so tough on you. I just didn’t expect this to happen. It’s my worst nightmare come true. I respect what you’re trying to do, and that you’re stepping up to the plate. And I’m sorry I’m not doing the same. I wish this had never happened to either of us. I don’t want a kid, but I also don’t want to be someone who deserts a child and creates even more problems. I wish you’d have an abortion, but if you won’t, I need to consider this. Give me some time to think, and I’ll get in touch with you. That’s the best I can do for now.” She looked at him and appreciated that he was at least wrestling with it, she could see how hard it was for him. He wasn’t an asshole or a bad guy probably, he was someone who had been very badly hurt, didn’t want to hurt anyone else, and just didn’t want to have children. He looked as though he rued the day he had come to the restaurant at all.

  “Thanks for thinking about it, Mike,” April sai
d quietly. “I’m sorry this is so hard, for both of us. It shouldn’t be like this.” No child deserved to come into the world with grief-stricken, devastated parents. At least she didn’t feel that way now. There were times when she was even excited about the baby, and she knew that when she finally saw it, she’d be happy. It seemed very obvious now that Mike wouldn’t. He was too frightened by it to ever enjoy it. But he was trying to be responsible, and she respected him for that.

  “I’ll call you,” he said miserably, looked at her for another moment, and then hurried back down the stairs and vanished. He was gone by the time she walked back into the kitchen. She had no idea when she’d hear from him again. Maybe not until the baby was born, if then. She was certainly not going to pursue him. And if she never heard from him again, that was just the way it was. She wasn’t in love with him fortunately, he was “just” her baby’s father. It didn’t get much more serious than that.

  She told her mother about his visit when they spoke that afternoon.

  “At least he’s trying,” April said generously.

  “He’s lucky you’re not suing him for support,” her mother reminded her. “Another woman would have.”

  “Whatever. I’m not counting on him in any way. It might be easier if he’s not involved.” She had thought that from the beginning, and had only contacted him to be fair. She’d done her part now, and whatever he decided about it was up to him. She had no expectations or illusions about him.

  For days after Mike had last seen April at the restaurant, he could hardly think straight and couldn’t concentrate on his work. He had reviews to write of three new restaurants, and he couldn’t think of a word to say. He didn’t remember the meals he’d eaten there, everything around him had become a blur. He was sitting, staring blankly at his computer at the newspaper, when his longtime friend Jim stopped at his desk and grinned at him. Mike hadn’t shaved all week, and he looked as discombobulated as he felt. His expression was a combination of desperation and grimness.